Beowulf in the land of the halflings
by unseenu
Summary: Beowulf's ship is pulled into a cave and is washed down the Brandywine river,thrusting him into the war of the rings.
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is my attempt to join Beowulf and Lord of the Rings,I am surprised that this hasn't been done before on this site given Tolkien's connection to Beowulf. Anyway enjoy **

Beowulf groggily got to his feet with a splitting headache,the creaking of his familiar longboat greeted his newly awakened ears,the legendary warrior was covered in bruises and cuts that had partially healed during the long night. The roughly hewn planks around him were stained from the blood that had been dripping from his wounds.

How had they got here? They were drifting down a pleasant river that danced in the afternoon sunlight,far green meadows stretched away on either side of the bank. Birds sang and on the horizon wise venerable mountains that reminded the Geat of his wild snowy homeland stood tall against the sky.

One by one the details of the treacherous night before came swimming back into Beowulf's mind,he and his crew(that were now sleeping soundly around him) had been fighting against a tremendous tempest. He remembered the spray in his face and the enveloping waves that lashed at the craft as they were making for Hrothgar's lands. Yes,dark cliffs loomed to one side of them,dragged ever closer by the tide. They were desperately seeking a place to make port when it had happened. The current took them and swept them into some invisible cave concealed in the jagged cliffs,on and on the rapids dragged them,constantly jarring them against the craggy tips of stone daggers that lined the forsaken natural tunnel. Beowulf remembered wrestling with the boat's tiller when it swung back and hit him square in the face. And then they had woke up here.

Beowulf took the tiller and guided the boat as they drifted further down the little river,where they were headed he did not know but saw no need to disturb his men's well needed rest just yet.

As he coasted further down the river the wild pleasant meadows gave way to tilled farmland with fences and the occasional outbuilding. Signs of civilisation at last,thought Beowulf. Indeed in the distance further downstream he could see little clusters of stone and wood that could only be towns,thinking on this realised he was in sore need of food,a good swig of mead and a bed for the night.

His train of thought was derailed when by the riverside he noticed a curious figure observing him and looking totally bewildered. Beowulf at first took him for a child but then realised that with the bushy grey hair and hunched posture that it was clearly an old man,although the shortest that Beowulf had ever seen in his eventful life. The little man had been busy nailing a barrel of some strange weed closed but the hammer now lay abandoned on the grass as he took to his bare hairy feet and ran alongside the ship shouting something in his rustic,chattering tongue that Beowulf spoke not a word of.

For a moment Beowulf thought of grabbing a spear from one of his sleeping men and throwing it square at the funny creature,generally when he saw something unnatural looking his instinct was to kill. Monsters should not be given second chances. Keeping a firm hand on the rudder he nudged his nearest soldier with his sturdy boot,the bundle of muscles on the bare deck wriggled into life and yawned, "Wake up Olaf!"barked Beowulf, "Cast your eyes on this."

"What is it?" Moaned Olaf, "Have we finally set down on Hrothgar's shores?".

"I'm afraid not my friend,we are in strange lands,inhabited by strange folk,ones such as that fellow over there."Replied Beowulf,taking hold of Olaf's head and wrenching his sleepy but still fearsome face in the right direction.

Olaf gawped at the little man who had not stopped babbling in his own language the entire time,the longboat had drifted quite a way from where the warrior had first sighted the creature but still it kept pace with them waving his fist and firing nonsensical syllables in their direction. If the two Norsemen had studied the Westron speech they may have understood his cry of : "What do you lumbering big folk think you're doing,You're headed straight for the Brandywine Bridge!"

A forceful jerk of the thing's little hand encouraged Beowulf and his warrior Olaf to glance downstream,they were indeed heading straight for a neatly built stone bridge. This stretch of the river which the local's called Brandywine was more crowded and many more of the little folk milled around either side going about their everyday doings. Beowulf's eyes flitted about in astonishment at them,he saw they were no threat,some were trading,some sat smoking interesting pipes, children even smaller than they were played merrily. Not a weapon in the place,no cause for alarm. These were the last thoughts that went through Beowulf's mind as he braced against the stern of his longboat for the inevitable impact. With a crunch the prow met the sturdy bridge knocking loose a good few stones from it,the jolt awoke the rest of Beowulf's men.

The small folk gathered around the halted boat and the damaged bridge,all business stopped and all eyes stared in utter confusion. A few of them clocked the fearsome swords that Beowulf's men bore and with a few brief screams bailed the scene,trundling away their carts and tools with them.

"These men,if indeed they are men,fear us,"Beowulf announced to his newly roused crew,while Olaf mingled with them and tried to explain to them their strange predicament, "Wiglaf,my kinsman,you shall go ashore with me and the rest of you shall remain here to guard the boat. Make good what damage you can then rest up,fill your skins from this stream we have found ourselves sailing down. The water looks clean and you shall have sore need of it after last night's voyage."

With these orders underway Beowulf hopped sure-footedly onto the land. He was soon joined by Wiglaf,his kinsman and trusted friend. They reluctantly left their mighty swords behind taking instead only the smallest of knifes so as not to further alarm the half grown men. The area around the bridge was now completely deserted as the pair searched for someone in authority to parley with,suddenly at the other end of the road came galloping a white horse and cloaked rider. He was taller than the others they had seen and was the only one they had seen wearing boots,Beowulf silently decided that he was obviously an ordinary man.

"Hello my good sir!"declared Beowulf stepping confidently into the middle of the road and making the bearded man's horse stamp to a halt, "A tempest has brought me and my men into your lands,We are in great need of assistance."

"My my you do speak a curious dialect,"said the man,removing his hood to reveal a face lost in white hair with two wise eyes set in it, "It is some form of Rohirric no? Although twisted beyond all recognition, let me see now."

He thought for a moment and then spoke in a greatly altered fashion, "Do you understand these words?"

Beowulf nodded,the words were in his own language but in a terrible faltering accent that suggested whoever was speaking them had learned it from books without ever actually holding a conversation in it.

"Now that you can understand me speak your purpose,men are not often seen in the Shire,especially men as warlike as yourselves. Are you servants of Mordor? If it be so I shall strike you down this instant!"

Beowulf looked confused and then replied, "I do not know who your mother is,but I am definitely not her servant,nor anyone's. I am Beowulf and this is my companion Wiglaf,surely you have heard some word of our deeds of valour,we have slain great monsters together. As a matter of fact we were just on our way to aid a friend of ours,has word of Hrothgar king of Zeatland,reached this strange part of the world?

"I know not this king or his lands,"said the man, "And if that is so you must come from a place far from here,I am Gandalf,or Mithrandir. Do your people know of me?"

Beowulf thought for a moment then shook his head.

Gandalf nodded and said in jest, "Then we shall be considered even."

He was silent a moment longer then asked, "You claim to be slayers of monsters do you? Then I may have a task for your company. In return I would gladly pay you well and help you find your way home. I have a few friends who belong to the little folk who you have no doubt seen,they are known as Hobbits,they have set out on an...errand of great importance. I can tell you no more but I fear they will be stalked by fearsome creatures,no mortal man can defeat them but you may be able to waylay them,there is a tavern to the north of here,meet me there in one hour and I shall tell you more. Bring no weapons and do not attack these people."

With that he rode off on whatever errand he was on leaving the two alone,

"Shall we take that strange man's offer?"Asked Wiglaf.

Beowulf sighed and concluded, "We have no choice but to," as he headed back to the longboat to inform his thanes...


	2. Chapter 2

The smoke filled tavern was completely cut off from the afternoon light,guttering candles sat in recesses and all around hobbit men drank and smoked with friends,trying to ignore the strange meeting that was happening between Gandalf and the warlike man who had damaged their bridge.

"Its not right,"said one hobbit to another, "Bringin' strange big folk here and disturbin' the peace, 'specially with queer goin's on already."

"ee'll have 'is reasons"the barmaid interjected as she slammed down a tray full of yet more pints.

"This means trouble,mark my words."another local farmer said.

The whisperings and disapproving mutterings slowly gave way to laughter and the singing of old songs the more the bar's clientèle drank. Soon no-one paid any heed to Gandalf and his drinking partner who had never tasted the sweet beer the locals brewed and was enjoying it very much.

Gandalf laughed heartily as smoke curled from his pipe in unnatural ways, "If your tales are to be believed master Beowulf then you are certainly the man for the job, forfeiting a swimming race to take on countless sea monsters indeed!"

"Now perhaps I shall tell you some of my tales,"he continued stroking his beard thoughtfully,he was silent for a moment and began to spin Beowulf some stories about his travels. He told of the battles he had witnessed,the monsters he had slain,his great journey with one of the Shire people known as Bilbo Baggins. The more he spoke and the more Beowulf questioned him the more fluent in Beowulf's tongue Gandalf became.

It seemed to Beowulf that as he spoke the smoke from his pipe twisted into shapes and images to

illustrate his tales. He was impressed by this magic,the most his local wizard had ever done was to stare at runes while claiming to commune with the gods.

"That is indeed a remarkable story,"marvelled Beowulf, "Your deeds put mine to shame. But I grow weary,let us talk business,what is the monster you wish me to kill?"

"Not kill,goodness no,that would be impossible."Gandalf said mysteriously,resting his gnarled hands on the hobbit sized table. These creatures are known as Nazgul,the most feared servants of the great evil I have already told you a little about. In your tongue I believe you would call them,erm...Wraiths of the ring?"

"An ominous name indeed,"commented Beowulf,looking at the smoke from Gandalf's pipe which had now curled itself into the form of a fearsome cloaked rider atop a black horse.

"They cannot truly be killed as they died long ago. Although fire and running water they cannot abide,you will be able to do them great suffering if you use those elements on them."

Beowulf thought long and hard then eventually said, "I shall kill this wraith for you,that is a fair price to pay for help in returning to my own lands."

"You must understand it is not one creature,there are nine."Gandalf spoke these words slowly and seriously.

"Me and my men are to face nine unstoppable undead wraiths?"exclaimed Beowulf loudly,standing up in his passion. Several of the hobbits stared,it was a good thing he was speaking in his own language,otherwise he may have caused great panic in the Shire.

"I did not say the task would be easy,"said Gandalf, "But these creatures must be waylaid if my friends are to stand any chance in their mission. I myself could send these creatures away with a wave of my hand but there are matters of great importance that I must attend to,the fate of our world and indeed yours depends on my success."

"I do not relish telling my men of their task but it shall be done."Beowulf got up and made to leave.

"I wish you luck in your task,"were the last words that Gandalf spoke to him in a long time...

/

Some time had now passed since Beowulf had told his shipmates of the task at hand,the sun was getting low in the sky as they sat,feeling the tension build. The longboat was still grounded against the bridge but now a little more organised,as a gesture of goodwill some of Beowulf's men had even taken the time to repair the bridge. Occasionally a hobbit trotted past on an errand,avoiding eye contact with the men.

Beowulf looked up from a deep thought as Wiglaf came aboard and informed him that he had placed small beacon fires around the area as ordered,they were ready to be lit at a moment's notice.

"I think our mysterious wizard friend has informed some of them of what is happening,"continued Wiglaf, "A few of the little fellows even brought out wood to me and helped me place it."

Beowulf smiled and replied, "Perhaps they think this is an invasion,earlier on a few of them ran up to the boat and set down a pile of bread then ran off. Maybe they are trying to appease us so we don't attack them."

"A shame we can't get a few more of them on our side,"said Wiglaf, "A large number of them would be a force to be reckoned with,and we could certainly do with the help against what we are facing."

The two talked like this for some time until the sun dipped below the horizon and the pleasant Shire was bathed in a soft darkness,the smells of greenery drifted across the noses of the warriors reminding them of the pastures they tended in times of peace.

It was late into the night when they first heard signs of trouble,a few miles down the river a sounding of urgent horns could be heard,it was quickly spreading over the entire Shire. Several of Beowulf's men grinned and blew their own horns just to join in the thrill of the call to battle,soon the Hobbit's voices were raised in an ancient call to arms along with the roar of the horns. None of the Geat's understood the Hobbit watchmen who ran from village to village shouting , "Fear Fire Foes! Awake!"

"Fear Fire Foes! Awake!"yelled Beowulf's men,mimicking the Hobbit tongue,caught up in the exhilaration of the cry Beowulf himself shouted loudly and clearly, "Fear Fire Foes! Awake!"

The alarms and shouts sang long into the night,when they were beginning to die down everyone on the boat went silent as they heard hoof beats pounding their way towards the bridge. Beowulf steadied himself and as one of the dark figures galloped across the bridge just inches from his face he leapt up and drove his sword into the horse. It keeled over and it's cloaked rider rolled painfully off,enraged it got to its feet and advanced on Beowulf holding its evil glinting sword in readiness. The hoofbeats of two more horses could be heard approaching in the distance.

Beowulf prised his sword from the forsaken horse and turned upon the wraith, "Light the fires!" he cried charging forward to meet the nazgul. He ducked narrowly avoiding the creature's mighty sword and leapt upon the robed figure,attempting to pin it down. Even as he wrestled upon the Brandywine bridge with it one of Beowulf's men had been running between Wiglaf's carefully laid beacons setting them aflame with a torch that they had kept burning in a hidden place. Plumes of flame rose into the sky on all sides of the bridge bathing the scene in a light brighter than day.

The rest of Beowulf's forces poured off the boat and came to his aid,one even attempted to wrest the creature's hateful blade from its hand but failed. With great effort they grabbed the cloaked wraith bodily and thrust it into the Brandywine where it writhed horribly from being surrounded by the running water it despised so much. The wraith abandoned the cloak that surrounded it and was carried away formless by the river,leaving only a pile of cloth and an evil looking blade which lay there until it rusted away many years later.

Exhausted the men turned and gathered their strength to face the next wave of the things coming up the road. "Do not let them pass the bridge,"gasped Beowulf,running forward and grabbing a burning branch from one of the blazing fires. He charged to meet the two making the horses rear up wildly,as scared of fire as their masters were. The Wraiths fought to regain control of their mounts then stepped off them silently,they turned and advanced on Beowulf who was far from the aid of his men,he made wild slashing motions in the air with his burning branch that made the pair pause briefly in their slow glide towards him but on they came. He ducked avoiding a strike from one of them and thrust the branch against it's cloak.

The flame caught and within moments the Nazgul was a moving man shaped flame running towards the bridge. Beowulf's baffled men jumped aside to let it pass,it was far down the road when it finally knelt and let the flames consume its empty cloak.

The remaining wraith snarled and backed away,it slashed its sword in frustration at Beowulf then vanished into the night. Beowulf looked down,the sword had sliced him clean across the chest. He felt gravely ill and fell to the ground, the fires crackled and his men rushed to their chieftain's aid.

His vision blurred and all went black...


	3. Chapter 3

Beowulf awoke on a comfortable bed in a homely room, sunlight streamed through a round window which told him he was still in the strange realm of the little people and terrifying shades. His fight with those fell spectres came rushing back to him, along with a slight pain where he had been hit.

Feeling more awake he managed to sit up and realised that his sword was propped respectfully up at the foot of the bed, or beds. It was at this point that he realised he was actually lying on two beds pushed together, they were still barely big enough to hold his mighty frame.

A noise at the door made him stare cautiously ,ever weary of attack even when injured. With a creak and the scrape of stone on wood the door pushed open and in came a tall figure with shaggy black hair, not a Halfling but an ordinary man. He looked about with dark eyes as battle hardened as Beowulf's.

"You and your men fought well,"he said, speaking in the same debased form of Rohirric that Gandalf had used and Beowulf could understand, his own language having grown out of it. "I salute you as a fellow warrior, by your efforts the nine are now seven. Although they may take on a new form and return. It was lucky for you that I was in the region, if I had not been here to administer the athelas you would now be dead, I had an appointment to keep in Bree, I sorely hope that delaying one night to nurse you has not made me late. You are not the only one which Gandalf appointed a task to."

"You struck a bargain with that sorcerer too?" replied Beowulf, his curiosity as to the man's history rising. 

The man thought for a moment and then laughed, "Perhaps long ago in my youth, but I am now one of his closest friends, I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, your men have told me your name, You are Beowulf son of Ecgtheow."

Not wanting to be seen as a weakling Beowulf prised himself from the bed and was pleasantly surprised to find his could walk with no discomfort. Before he could speak Aragorn spoke up again,

"I must depart for I have an errand of the greatest urgency to attend to, You should return to your boat where your men await eagerly for news of you. With that Aragorn was gone.

Beowulf gladly ate the small plate of food he found by his bedside and dressed, taking up his sword he pushed out of the little room and made down the stairs. As he pushed his way through the smoky tavern below curious Hobbits stared and spoke in hushed whispers, many who had seen the fight from their bedroom windows were deep down very grateful for his actions.

He emerged into a sunny day in the shire and strolled back to the longboat which was still wedged against the Brandywine bridge. The bridge was now almost totally repaired by the effort of Beowulf's crew.

As he approached the warriors turned their heads but remained in their nonchalantly relaxed positions on the deck. Several of them applauded as they saw that their chieftain had survived, he stepped onto the boat and was greeted by thumps on the back and congratulatory murmurs. Beowulf raised his hand to gain their attention and then spoke, "My friends we won a great victory last night, I am proud of you all!"

This was met with much cheering, "However we must now make a decision, from what the man who calls himself Aragorn has told me the sorcerer, Gandalf, who promised to take us home has left on some journey of great importance. Therefore we must decide what to do."

One of Beowulf's soldiers spoke up, "The wizard crossed this bridge when he departed and made east, we could make an attempt to follow him."

At this the warriors mumbled with general approval, Beowulf thought and then said, "That might be our only choice, but such a campaign would require supplies. We are in a strange land with very little of anything.

"That is not entirely true,"interjected Wiglaf. "Many of these Hobbit people were extremely thankful for our help in defending them and our remorseful repairs to the damage we did, some gave us gifts of food while you slept."

With this he pulled back a blanket that Beowulf hadn't noticed among the deck's usual debris, revealing a significant pile of breads and meats. Beowulf smiled, "Very well once we have prepared everything a small company of us should set out in search of Gandalf, that way there will not be so much pressure on the supplies. The rest of you shall guard the boat until we return, though that may not be for weeks or even months. But you shall not be idle, according to Gandalf another attack may fall upon these pleasant lands. There will be battle and labour enough here to occupy you. Perhaps you can also win the friendship of these Hobbits and even learn something of their speech."

And so it was decided, after only a little more debate, what should be done. Beowulf set out with Wiglaf and Olaf, laden with the Hobbit's gifts and leading with them a small pack pony they had picked up at the Bucklebury market. After a short march the Shire was fading in the distance as they trudged their way over dirt roads that wound through rolling fields and fens, all the while being vigilant for any sign that Gandalf had been there.

They had been walking for perhaps two days when they met up with a trail that had horse tracks leading down it, there were also the tracks of several smaller ponies but these were much older. It was clear that these horses has come from the direction of the shire.

"These older tracks may just be Halfling trade, but these larger, newer tracks. They may very well be the horse of the man we are looking for."reasoned Beowulf.

With new hope they followed the tracks, stopping only to eat. By the time the orange sun was about to set they saw in the distance that the road they were following wound up to a mighty white tower, surrounded by an impressive defensive wall.

"That appears to be where our wizard was making for," observed Wiglaf,who was leading the pony.

"We will camp here and head towards that tower in the morning," was Beowulf's decision.

And so the company made camp under the stars with the tower of Isengard looming on the horizon.


	4. Chapter 4

Beowulf's men tore themselves from sleep and left the small fire they had lit smouldering away as they set out across the plain in front of them, making for the looming fortress of Isengard. The tall yellow grass whipped at their feet as they marched, a steady breeze flowing across the land.

Closer and closer they came until the walls of stone that ringed the tower rose up until they filled all of their view. Beowulf held up a hand and his men paused, "There is a small set of gates opened, so whoever owns this fortress cannot be too hostile."

"Unless there is a trap in place for us." suggested Wiglaf pessimistically.

"Nonsense, "declared Beowulf, "Who would possibly a trap for us? very few people in this land even know who we are, besides I doubt anyone knows we were making for here in the first place." 

His men nodded as they left their pony happily grazing and entered the seemingly forgotten gates and began their trek across the ring of Isengard, the ground about the path was boggy and it seemed to the warriors that all the greenery the was once there had been riven up with great force. A foul smell hung on the air.

"I think I see someone, " Olaf warned in a hushed tone, "On the roof, an old man with a white beard, perhaps the man we are looking for."

The others strained their eyes and could see it too, the figure sat square up against one of the impressive fans of ornamental stone, as if injured or dead.

"There is one easy way to find out, " said Beowulf, "Gandalf!" he cried, his voice carrying across all the surrounding landscape.

The figure twitched but gave no answer. Unsure what this meant they proceeded with caution to the imposing front door of the stone tower and found it locked.

The commander of the tower had been aware of them for some time through the devious and magical security devices he had put in place.

A small group of around a dozen hideous creatures emerged from a rift in the ground a short distance away. They brandished crude blades and ran full pelt to the doors to meet Beowulf's men. Knowing monsters when they saw the men held their ground and were ready for them when they arrived, mortal combat ensued upon the steps of Orthanc. Here a slashing, there a bout of wrestling, with great effort they fought them. Beowulf and his men gallantly locked swords with the things until they were all dead. Luckily these were only the most inferior slave goblins, if a band of the Uruk-Hai of the same size had been sent to deal with them it would have been a considerably more difficult fight.

Beowulf began to laugh, "We have fought more fearsome beasts than that in our time, and they've foolishly shown us a possible way into the tower." he commented.

"There may be more of them, " warned Olaf, "We should take their armour as a disguise."

This was agreed and the went off to investigate the hole that their enemies had emerged from with orc cloaks draped around them and ugly helmets obscuring their vision. Upon approaching the rift they found that a wide ladder was built into its side, the means by which the orcs had ascended. Without saying a word they climbed down onto the walkway below.

They found that the rickety walkway was made of wood and was only the highest of many built into the side of the ugly rift, looking over the side they saw that far down in the depths of the cave many more of the orcs worked at great furnaces fed by piles of whole trees. Cautiously they began to work their way along it searching for a way into the tower above, at one point they had to dive to the side to avoid being mowed down by some ruthless looking orcs marching in step that came from the other direction. Beowulf's men did not know it but they had been ordered to climb to the surface to deal with the intruders.

They had been walking for a long time when they reached an arched passage that led off into the rock surrounding them, Beowulf pointed to it and his men followed him in single file. The sound of the orc's hammering and cursing echoed along the dark damp walls of the narrow passage which seemed to be leading upwards. They walked steadily down it for what seemed like an age before they emerged into a bare stone basement, in the corner were some barrels which Beowulf vaguely recognised from his time in the Shire.

"Right then, "he declared, "Lets climb these stairs and find Gandalf."

With that they were off, winding their way up what seemed like miles of staircase. At one point Wiglaf suddenly paused and put out a hand telling the others to stop. "Listen!"he hissed.

Far behind them on the staircase they could hear the echoing of many evil footsteps and the grumbling of many evil voices. "I think they know we are here, "gulped Beowulf, "Run!"

With this the company bolted up the stairs, panting for breath, they threw off their orc helmets and cloaks to lighten the load.

Eventually the stairs wound up to a hole that led out onto the roof of the great tower, the countryside spread out for miles around it. Exhausted they reached the top of the stairs and turned to the figure which they had seen from afar, who was propped up against a great stone wing.

The figure was indeed Gandalf, although he looked very frail, he could only gaze at them with unfocused eyes. Beowulf realised that his hands were tied and cut them free.

For the first time in days Gandalf opened his mouth and spoke in a cracked voice, "Beowulf my friend, "he said , "This is unexpected but welcome, and in the nick of time as well."

Without help Gandalf pulled himself to his feet and made a broad gesture to the horizon, several huge eagles were flying towards them. They swooped inches from their heads and took them up in their great talons, as their feet pulled away from the ground some very angry orcs emerged onto the top of the tower.

Soon they were swooping high over Isengard and away to the north, at first Beowulf's men were a little frightened but were now quite enjoying it. As one they began to laugh.

It was just when the thrill of flying was at its peak when the eagle bearing Beowulf released its talon's and let him go. He let out a long steady, "Ahhhhhhhh" as he plummeted towards the dark forest below...

...The others were already far away from where he fell by the time they realised what had happened.

"You killed him!"shouted Wiglaf to Gandalf from under his eagle, "Your wretched bird killed him!"

"He is not dead, "said Gandalf calmly, his beard blowing absurdly in the wind. "The eagle has dropped him off exactly where I told him to, I received a message by butterfly from a very old friend that the fate of the world depended on getting that man to Fangorn forest. She also told me that you are to be taken to Rivendell with me."

The two men did not know what Rivendell was but remained silent, dangling thousands of feet in the air is not the best place to hold a conversation. They merely looked around in awe at the clouds and mountains that they were high above, as they were bourne towards Rivendell, whatever that was.


	5. Chapter 5

The wind and branches lashing at his face Beowulf plummeted from the crisp night air into the decrepit , uninviting forest. By some miracle he landed on a pile of leaves with nothing more than a groan, his eyes adjusting to the deep darkness he got to his feet and recovered his sword that had slipped off him in his painful descent. It was moments later when he heard the crunch of huge, inhuman footsteps.

Gripping his sword in readiness he saw, materialising out of the dark, a hulking shape twice as big as any man. It seemed to his eyes to be a walking tree with an ancient beard of moss, as the abomination approached it began to rattle off some rumbling guttural noises like trees crashing to the ground, of course the Ent was actually speaking ordinary westron words, if Beowulf was able to understand the walking tree he would have heard quite clearly, "Hello there, humarum , I have been expecting you, the Lady of Lorien has told me that I am to take you to her. My name is Treebeard and I shall guide you through my woods."

The thing's wooden face wore a questioning look that appeared to Beowulf like an evil sneer. Acting on instinct Beowulf let out a guttural roar of his own and dealt a fearsome slash to the tree demon, leaving a gash that would make the most experienced woodcutter proud.

The tree creature expelled a deep, stinking roar of pain and raised its trunk like arms for a strike. Beowulf jumped awkwardly and avoided the sweeping blow that surely would have killed him. With the thing still roaring in anger Beowulf fled blindly into the cover of the trees, perhaps it was his imagination but the trees seemed to have their will set against him. He could have sworn that particularly heavy or thorny branches constantly clawed at him, waylaying his journey through the unwelcoming wood.

As he clove a path through the harsh terrain he began to wonder how long it would take him to emerge and breathe fresh air once more. He did not know it then but it would be around two days before he would see an end to the wood that he was coming to despise more and more by the minute…

/

Weary and hungry, having only two small loaves of Hobbit bread with him when he fell, which had now dwindled down to a few crusts, Beowulf trudged on through cold moist grass, the loathed forest of Fangorn, home of the monstrous walking trees, was now a green mass on the distant horizon.

Beowulf was making for another forest, a less foreboding one which offered good promise of Game to eat, he had spent the past few days staggering a little closer towards it, driven by the hope of water and a good feed.

A cold wind was whipping across the meadows when he finally sunk into the shelter of the proud golden trees and collapsed against one to catch his breath. As he sat like this his strength recovered and he felt that the exhausting journey had been well worth it.

His mind wandered to his friends, to Olaf and Wiglaf, who must by now have believed him to be dead. For the first time since he had left the Shire he thought of Hrothgar, and the monster still plaguing his halls, how much damage would be done to that kingdom before he could come to their aid?

Suddenly his train of thought was interrupted by a twig snapping and heard two voices chattering away in a language even more alien to him than Westron, they approached him confidently until Beowulf could see that they were proud, tall men. They wore long flowing robes and had unusual ears, Beowulf remembered stories of tribes who cut and stretched parts of their bodies for aesthetic reasons and assumed that this was what the men had done.

One of them jabbered away angrily and questioningly to Beowulf, keeping his elegant bow ready to strike. The elf paused as he waited for Beowulf to answer but luckily he was spared the ordeal of making himself understood by a shout that went up. It was a woman's voice, speaking in the elven tongue, as cold and clear as water. In response to it the two soldiers lowered their bows, as if in fear.

"You have arrived at last," said the elf lady, "Although I wished you had let treebeard lead you instead of trying to chop him down. I am Galadriel and this is my domain, the forest of Lothlorien."

Beowulf found the beautiful apparition strange to listen to because she used no words, yet seemed to be speaking directly to his mind and in his own language. In this way he would learn much about the world he had found himself in from her, during the long uncounted weeks he spent in the sanctuary of Lothlorien.


	6. Chapter 6

Beowulf awoke in the treetop hammock that had been his home for weeks beyond count, indeed time seemed to cease to exist under the eaves of the heavenly forest. He slipped on fine white raiment that had been gifted to him and crossed to the side of his platform, far below groups of elves wandered among the glorious Mallorn trees on business of their own. Beowulf thought their behaviour odd, normally they were jolly and light hearted, and how could one fail to be in this magnificent forest?

Today however, every elf he saw bore a serious countenance, as if some news of grave importance had reached them. After a hearty swig of the jug of water that was placed by his bed, Beowulf swung himself gracefully down a ladder and headed off eager for breakfast. After crossing an intricate series of terraces and bridges that he had come to know as well as own villages, he joined many elves that he had come to know well at a grand low table, laid with the finest meats and elven bread. Usually they would have said some kind greeting to him in their own language (which Beowulf was learning in leaps and bounds) but they did not even look at him this morning, they remained rapt in the hushed conversation they were having.

"Galadriel said they would-"he heard, the end of the sentence passed out of his limited comprehension.

"Of course but-"said another elf, launching into a brief reply full of unknown verbs, "-With help of Grey randir, Myth randir to guide!"

Mithrandir? Thought Beowulf, where had he heard that before?

The elves continued their long debate, Beowulf picked up further mentions of Mithrandir, a word he felt sure he had heard elsewhere, a good deal about magic hoops and something about the land that Gandalf had spoken of, an evil place called "Mother". However, he now understood that this was simply how it sounded in his own language, having learned enough elvish to know that the word meant "Dark Lands".

Finishing his breakfast, which was probably the finest he would have on the whole adventure, he left the elves to their heated discussion and went to find Galadriel. He weaved his way among the tree-spanning causeways and came to the glade where he often talked with her, usually about the great history of the strange lands he had found himself in. In fact, he was rapidly beginning to forget details of his own world, the longer he spent in Arda. He was now struggling to remember Hrothgar's plight, which seemed now like a distant legend.

He was pleased to find Galadriel where he expected her to be, staring longingly into her elegant silver bowl upon its ancient stone pedestal.

"I have been expecting you Beowulf," she intoned without turning around, "Come and join me at the mirror, I feel that you should see this."

Stepping up to the mystical waters, as he occasionally did during his informal lessons with her, he looked down and became almost entirely immersed in the image that he beheld. He was looking down onto a circle of carven chairs in some great palace; people of many races were gathered there, even several hobbits. Among them he saw Gandalf, which warmed his heart, but the wizard was not the only figure that he recognised. "Olaf and wiglaf!" he cried, "My friends live! Tell me Galadriel, what is this mighty gathering that I am witnessing?"

"This is the council of Elrond, "she said wisely, "There shall be decided the fate of our world, the golden ring that rests on that table is the subject of debate. Within it is contained the power of Sauron, of whom I have told you.

"The Maia of Morgoth" nodded Beowulf, remembering the tales sung to him by the bards of Lorien.

Gandalf had the floor now, waving his hand insistently as he rebuked some point made by the proud elf that seemed to be leading the gathering.

"This meeting shall pass into legend and be sung of forever. Indeed in after days, many shall write characters of their own legends into the tales of what took place there." she said, calmly watching Beowulf as he observed the progress of the council. For hours he watched as the discussion wore on, Gandalf seemed to be explaining his encounter with Beowulf, gesturing occasionally at the two thanes present. It seemed to Beowulf that the assembled races agreed that the Geats were friends to their cause, after all they had rescued Gandalf and seriously waylaid the Nazgul.

After a long while the council drew to a close and those assembled dispersed from the room.

"What has been decided?" asked Beowulf, who had understood not a word of what he'd witnessed.

"The ring is to be destroyed," said Galadriel, "A company of eleven shall set forth, including Gandalf and your two friends. They shall pass east and deliver it back to the fires that forged it, it is likely that they shall pass through these woods. If you wish you may re-join your friends then."

If Beowulf had not been reminded of his old life by seeing his friends, he would have wished to remain in Lorien forever. He turned to Galadriel and declared, "For the weeks you have sheltered me I am eternally grateful. It will be in great sorrow that I will leave you," He knelt and kissed her hand.

Galadriel laughed, "You shall not be parted from this place just yet my dear Beowulf, it shall be many months before the company shall find their way here, but find their way they shall, for I have seen that also in the mirror."

After that they talked for a while longer, jesting about daily happenings in Lorien that were now as familiar to Beowulf as they were to Galadriel. Celeborn, Galadriel's husband joined them and she related to him what had transpired at the council, even Beowulf made a few contributions to her tale with his own limited understanding. The rest of that day passed much like all the others in Lorien, with Beowulf aiding in the labours of the elves, joining in their meals and songs. All the while he looked forward to the day when he would be re-joined with the men of his company.


	7. Chapter 7

Beowulf sat at the very edge of Lorien, watching patiently the progress of a huddle of dark figures approaching on the horizon. They were heavily laden with packs and walked slowly, exhausted from their long journey. As they approached he was joined by several elf watchmen, sent by Galadriel to receive them.

"They shall be glad of rest when they arrive," said Beowulf in his fractured elvish,

"Yes," replied an elf, using simpler words than his normal speech, "It is likely that they will stay for a long time."

Despite the long distance that the approaching company had to go, these were the only words spoken among the welcoming party. The rest of the half hour that it took the figures to approach was spent in sonorous silence, reminding Beowulf of ambushes he had organised in his younger days. The sun vanished over the misty mountains to the west and bathed the scene in the soft red light that comes before nightfall. Just as the figures came to the eaves of the wood, the elf watchmen rushed forward declaring "Halt!" in the common tongue. After a brief exchange the company of several races was quickly blindfolded and given a rope to guide them, it had been explained to Beowulf that this was not done in malice but to protect the secret paths of Lorien.

Beowulf had not emerged from the woods and the company was not aware of him walking alongside them with the elf guards. He scanned the blind snake made of an elf, a dwarf, men and four hobbits. He quickly spied a blindfolded Wiglaf among the men but where was Olaf? Had he taken some other route? Perhaps he had fallen, the thought deeply saddened Beowulf as he was as close to Olaf as to any of his other warriors.

They walked like this for some time, winding their way among the great Mallorns like the columns of a sprawling cathedral. They came to rest in the very heart of the woodland city, in a wide clearing that was ideal for receiving guests, the company was unbound and Wiglaf stared in wonder along with the others. Beowulf remained skulking in the shadows, thinking it would be a wonderful jest to surprise his friend who surely thought him dead. At this moment Gladriel and Celeborn descended from a staircase built around a nearby Mallorn, looking more resplendent than Beowulf had ever seen them. The pair stepped forward and hailed the company, "Welcome to Lothlorien" Declared Galadriel.

A sad look was on the face of Celeborn, "Eleven set out from Rivendell yet ten there are here, tell me where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him."

"I am here lord Celeborn!" boomed Gandalf from among the company, casting off the cloak that had covered his face, "Yet not without peril am I come, a Balrog of Morgoth assailed us in the tunnels of Moria."

Galadriel gasped in utter horror, remembering Balrogs she had glimpsed in her youth when the world was born. Beowulf gasped too from his hiding place, remembering the tales of Balrogs that Galadriel had told him.

Gandalf nodded grimly, "Indeed the flame of Arnor would have been extinguished forever had it not been for one brave warrior, Olaf the Geat drew the fell beast away and smote it many times with his sword. Realising he could not hope to harm the demon he lured it over a great precipice. He shall live in legend forever."

All thought of jest and surprise gone Beowulf pounded his fist upon a tree and wept openly. Wiglaf at last perceived him and rushed to his side, filled with joy at regaining one companion yet filled with renewed grief for the loss of another. They took the opportunity to separate from the rest of the fellowship and spent the night drinking alone to the memory of their fallen comrade, when the worst of the grief had passed they fell to swapping stories of the two very different paths that had brought them to the forest. As they talked the elves of Lorien far below began sing in mournful yet still beautiful tones, Beowulf bowed his head saying, "They sing a lament for Olaf, though they barely knew him."

"What do they sing of him?" asked wiglaf.

Beowulf sighed, replying "I haven't the heart to tell you."

With these words they left the quiet balcony they had been sat on and went to join the others for a solemn yet healing supper. There they encountered Aragorn once more, who had healed Beowulf after his battle with the Nazgul, in addition to this he was introduced to the others who Wiglaf now knew as old companions. These were Legalas, an elf of Mirkwood, Gimli, son of one of the dwarves in Gandalf's tales from the hobbit tavern and a nobleman known as Boromir. With them were four hobbits named Maura Labingi,Banazir Glapsi,Razanur Tuk and Kalimac Brandagamba. Later tales would name them Frodo, Samwise, Pippin and Merry. It would be very late before the company parted and headed for the beds that they had been provided with, Wiglaf's was set on the same balcony as Beowulf's which allowed them to talk a good deal more before sleep finally took them…

/

Beowulf awoke and in his fatigue believed himself to be back on his comfortable old Longship, but this passed and he saw the mast was but the tree it always had been. The sleeping bulk of Wiglaf was likely what made him think he was there. He turned and tried to settle back to sleep, however, a rustling from below made this impossible. He heaved himself out of his bed and looked towards the ground far below. It seemed to him that some shadowy creature was crawling from tree to tree, the first unlovely thing he had seen in Lorien. Filled with the dread of monsters that he knew well, he leapt from the tree barely touching the ladder. Swordless he began to stagger after the loathsome thing.

The creature loped away at incredible speed, with Beowulf in hot pursuit. Many times he stumbled as he was not as light footed as the elves in the dark. The thing hissed and panted with every step, with Beowulf gaining on it all the time. The closer he got to the hideous thing the more it resembled a slimy little human with huge eyes, he dived upon it with a roar and pinned the thing to the ground, its writhing limbs pummelling him painfully. Ear-piercing curses were echoing all over the forest from the creature's stinking mouth. The thing spoke Westron, which Beowulf now knew somewhat of, "It hurts us…Gollum Gollum!" was one phrase he could pick out .This was when he realised that the creature he held had figured in Gandalf's tale of Bilbo. "Gandalf!" he called, hoping to rouse the Wizard. He could take the thrashing and the kicking no longer so stood up, grasping hold of one ankle .It took all his strength to hold Gollum at arm's length to prevent the possibility of being bitten. With sweat dripping from his face Beowulf swung Gollum round and round like a bucket on a rope then smacked his head against the ground again and again, just as Gollum himself did to fish.

Exhausted with the effort Beowulf fell back onto the leaves, panting as Gandalf arrived on the scene in his nightgown. He stared from Beowulf to the stricken body of Gollum, shaking his head in concern, "Beowulf son of Ecgtheow, what have you done?"he asked, "No no, do not answer. The answer will reveal itself as events progress."

Throughout the rest of his adventures Beowulf would ponder the meaning of Gandalf's cryptic remark, at the time he took it to mean that he would have preferred the miserable monster to live. Why somebody would want such a thing, he could not see. Gandalf knelt to examine the body, deep in thought, "So passes Smeagol, Hobbit of the Gladden Fields," he said to himself with great respect.

Two elf guards appeared and looked around in confusion, Gandalf stood and bid them, "Set a pile of stones around the body of this creature, then let nature dispose of it, there is no more danger to your forest". With this he strode away, the elves set about their task, neither wishing to go against the wishes of Mithrandir. Beowulf was left alone to return to his bed and wait till the morning to tell Wiglaf of the night's happenings.


End file.
